Page 194 of Vicious Saint
“I’m fine.” Nodding my head to the closed door, I tell him, “Just need a word with Saint.”
Carlo doesn’t like it but gives me his word, reassuring me he’ll be in the hall if I need him.
As furious as I am, guilt chews at me as I barge back into the room where Saint’s got his arms crossed waiting for me.
“Why the fuck did you do it?” I slam the door shut and march over to him. “To punish me?”
He remains silent and composed, unlike me when I slap him across the face.
“Tell me!”
“Guess I just felt like it.”
“You’re so full of shit.” I shake my head, heart pounding behind my ribs. “I couldn’t decipher the code to your fucked up attempt at showing me you wanna take things further, so you felt rejected and chose to lash out.”
He tilts his head, glancing up at the ceiling. “Sounds like something I’d do.”
“Theory will never forgive me.” I cry through a sob. “And I’ll never forgive you.” I try locking with Saint’s gaze, and true toform, he refuses to look at me. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
His lip does that twitching thing, which tells me I’m right.
“Since the day I met you in that closet, I’ve been fighting so many of my instincts. To stay away from you. Stop thinking about you. See past you…and even Vicious.”
This garners a whole ass reaction, and it’s full of surprise.
“Yeah, I’ve known about him for a while.”
“When…”
“Archer told me the night of our parents’ wedding. After you attacked Lance.”
Saint shoves his hands in his pockets, fiddling with something.
“I watched in horror as all the light drained from your face and you nearly killed someone.”
He turns away again, and I snatch his chin, forcing him to look at me. “You wanted me to speak? Now I’m speaking, so you’re gonna fucking listen.”
His jaw hardens, but he doesn’t argue when I let go.
“From the moment in the storage room I knew something was off with you, that there were demons you were fighting and trying to hide. But not once did they stop me from playing our games. Getting under your skin. Putting myself at your mercy.” I pause, gathering my emotions before I say, “Sleeping next to you in your bed.”
I watch as a glimmer of pain sweeps over Saint’s face.
“What the fuck does that tell you? Huh?”
“I don’t know.”
“It tells you that I trusted you! This whole time. Regardless of my instincts, my friends, my better judgment. Never once was I afraid to be alone with you or believed you’d ever hurt me. But you allowed some apparition in your mind to convince you I can’t.”
“Jimi—”
“I gave you so many chances to know I trusted you, Saint. It’s notmyfault you didn’t take them.”
The play on words does the trick, because Saint’s not only thinking, he’s regretting.
Well, too little too fucking late.
“After everything we’ve been through, the walls we tore down, you take one misunderstanding, which wasn’t even my fault because your methods are dizzying, to choose spite instead of patience! Because if you’d waited a little bit longer before betraying me, you would’ve known I talked to my friends, got some clarity, and came looking for you to tell you I’m no longer ‘late for class.’”
